Familiar Parabol
by Oneirogenic
Summary: A groan of tedium escaped his lips, fingers drumming idly, the clock winding down as he stared at the slowly creaking hands. Four more minutes, the test would be over sweet release. Jyoumato, Yaoi, PWP for the most part


Familiar Parabol

Warnings: Jyoumato, Yaoi, mature themes, and most likely lacking in the coherent grammar department ;3

Author Notes: Written in a four-hour sitting, all at once, one break around word 780. When I finished, the count came to 1515, which seemed oddly symbolic. So, I decided not to edit it any further, and just upload as is. Beware my shameless Tool references...and enjoy.

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A groan of tedium escaped his lips, fingers drumming idly, the clock winding down as he stared at the slowly creaking hands. Four more minutes, the test would be over; sweet release. He didn't care go back through the test, more important things clouded his mind at present. Plus, he had plenty of perfect scores to make up for the lack of concentration. Rustle of clothing, hands traveling up and into the wrinkled uniform, then down, and things got cloudy as the blush on his pale face deepened further. Not the sort of thing to be thinking about with a pencil gripped in your hand tight enough to break it and a teacher breathing down your neck. He looked back down at the sloppy kana and kanji. They were a blur against white paper and numbers...focus on the numbers. Staring and squirming, the growing tightness in his slacks finally registered, but he could only dwell long enough for the timer to let out a shrill wakeup call. Hands shot up to his mouth to catch the cry about to come out, senses jarred, and painfully aware of his surroundings. He slid low into his seat, feeling more self conscious than he wished to, wanting to close his eyes and sink away as the proctor collected the papers. But he remained composed. 

"Jyou..."

He smiled as best he could, Yamato's hand tight around his arm, pulling him closer. Fellow students passed, paying notice, and it made him nervous, but he was more than glad to sacrifice his nerves for the firm squeeze of his lover's arms around him. The blonde let his face lean in close to mutter a few words, but Jyou couldn't hear more than a deep rumble. The soft puff of air on his jaw made his mind turn off, and he was grateful to be tugged down the sidewalk toward his apartment. The couple of blocks went by quickly, but slowly, as time seems to do when it drags along in a painful blur. He tried to make conversation, but Yamato only gave him a smirk to shut him up. No formalities, the blush on Jyou's face hadn't left the entire time. He knew that Yamato knew and that made everything harder and easier at the same time. He wondered if his lover's thoughts were to blame for his libido's sudden urge to interrupt his test-taking. Yamato's mind was like that, he'd think something, and then you'd be thinking it as well without a word being said. Or vice versa. His mind would have traveled to further depths on the subject, but they were in the elevator, and the doors were sliding shut. Buttons pushed (nice, high floor, fortunately) and Jyou didn't have to look into the other's blue eyes to know that there was a predatory gleam there. He looked anyway, the hungry glare enough to make him get on his knees and _beg for it_.

Slow elevator, but quick hands, and quickly closing the gap between their two bodies. Jyou's eyes closed, their mouths pressing together, the returned force of the kiss sending him into a dizzy, heated spiral. Tongues came together in a hurried tangle, hands traveled dangerously, and all was right in the world except that they had to either hurry or break off in time for the doors to slide back open. The elevator isn't slow enough, and Yamato didn't intend for this to be quick.

The inevitable grinding rang in their ears, and they peeled apart from one another, gasping and panting, faces flushed deeply, Jyou's glasses more than askew. Their fingers interlaced, and they hurried to the apartment door. Jyou's stomach gave an anxious twist as they halted, it was all happening too slowly again. He fumbled with the keys until Yamato took them away and opened the door for him. Limbs shaking, body giving little jolts and twitches, he rushed inside, letting the blonde close the door behind them, shutting out the world. Neither bothered to shed their jackets or shoes; there were no formalities as their bodies came back together like magnets, tongues intertwined before a word could be uttered. Jyou let himself be backed against the closet door, pinned down as the slight weight of Yamato's body pressed against him. The contact evoked a groan (this one definitely not one of tedium), and a hard shudder from his body, hands gripping at the back of Yamato's coat. It slid off as though by whim, and he was barely aware of the fact that his was coming off was well, and his shirt buttons were being undone one by one. Musician's fingers brushed and pressed deftly against bare skin, calling forth more gasps and quiet groans. Jyou begged, nearly incoherent for more than just fingertips, back arching, soft touches doing little more than make his skin ache. Mouths connected once more, a sharp bite to Jyou's bottom lip, and things took up a dizzying whirl as blood rushed from his head to other more important parts. He pressed closer, pulling Yamato's hips closer with long arms, wanting almost nothing more than to satisfy his urge to melt into him in a tangle of flesh and sweat.

Interruption, pulling away, and a smirk that makes Jyou's heart sink to his heels. No games, please no games not today, not today... He began to beg before Yamato yanked on his tie, almost choking him like a silk noose, tugging him toward the bedroom, stumbling a little, trying to get there quickly but trying not to ruin the moment. Pushed down onto the bed, slender body atop his, legs spread, a hot tongue against his chest before he has any idea of what's going on. He groaned again, pressing up, hips aching at the warm tickle of breath against skin, and an even louder groan when the teeth and nails come into play. Beyond pain, at present, the sensation of Yamato's canines digging deep into his flesh making the hardness against his thigh _hurt_ more than anything else. Teeth on his hipbone jar him back to semiconsciousness, and he's aware of the zipper being pulled slowly downward, each click of the metal teeth painfully obvious to him. An eternity before the tongue travels from hip and thigh to dragging up his shaft. Another groan, wavering as his heels dig into the bedsheets and mouth encloses tightly around him. Almost torture, and he feels he'll lose it at any moment, the fevered rush of blood between his legs just waiting for the right pressure and slickness to release.

Stumbling into consciousness again, he's painfully aware that all clothes have been shed, and Yamato's body is again on top of him, and their hot and prickled skin is sticking and sliding deliciously against one another. Jyou's eyes opened to find his glasses had gone missing, but no matter, he could see Yamato's eyes perfectly, the cobalt depths communicating more than words could. He braced himself, eyes unwavering, arms coming up to pull Yamato into an embrace, the momentary anxiety fading at the first sensations of being slid into, slow and careful, until a long groan of ecstasy escaped his lips. A little faster, fingertips digging into Yamato's shoulders, leg wrapping around to get just the right angle. Quicker, closer, a little bit further in and _there, right there_ don't stop, don't stop. He doesn't realize he's chanting his name, flesh against flesh, and inside, and everything's a quick and pulsing fever as everything steadily mounts higher and higher. Forgetting to breath, in, out, in out, prying, forcing, awakening something deep inside that's been agitated and asleep for far too long. Nothing but sensation, sweat and groans and a soft carnal burn is all they're aware of. Both are gone, replaced, joined together as a mass of connected ego and breath, Yin and Yang and synchronicity. In a sweet moment, they are one, and all fades but the soft groan and rumble of mounting, inevitable climax. In a sweet moment, it all comes back, and they are entirely aware of flesh pressed to flesh, hips grinding, and the growing electricity that has to be flowing between their writhing bodies.In, out, in, out,right _THERE, it's right THERE_, and they're crying out as everything halts and stiffens, shouted names, curses as everything seems to jolt suddenly like they're being torn apart from the inside. The spilling rush starts to dwindle, and all that's left is a feeling of wholeness as they collapse together, panting as though finally remembering to breathe. They dare not move, just in case the feeling of unity fades, even though they're sticky with sweat and sex. Breathing a little steadier now, an eternity before Yamato pulled away just enough to brush his chapped lips against Jyou's, long musician's fingers brushing away the tangled and damp mess of hair from his forehead.

He whispered something softly, but all Jyou heard was a soft, steady rumble as he slipped from conciousness, still connected and in time with the soft hum surrounding him and pulling him inside.


End file.
